Further Than Today
by JamesTheGreater
Summary: The story of a group friends during their Junior year. They deal with teachers, parents, siblings, jobs, relationships...the typical stuff. And with the future looming ahead, they're just trying to make the most of it before it's all too late.
1. The First Day

**...Now comes with free unexpected surprises.**

* * *

Freddie slammed his locker closed, excitement causing his hands to shake. Most other teenagers weren't happy on the first day of another long school year. They dreaded the end of the sweet liberty of summer days, of the sunny afternoons in the grass, of the fun with friends, and of the extra hours of sleep every day. And to be honest, Freddie knew he would miss those things, too. But he couldn't help his jubilation about the first English class of the year because this year, as a junior, English would be taught by the beautiful Ms. Fairfield. All the guys who had taken her class since she joined the faculty 3 years ago had barely passed. Not that she was a bad teacher (she had full recommendations from her university); it was that they all were too busy staring and drooling to complete any tasks.

Freddie couldn't blame them. Due to years of suffering under Mrs. Briggs' less than pretty face and iron fist, Ms. Fairfield's easy-going manner, along with her youthful good looks, was a warm sunlit day after a dark and dreary night. Her luscious black hair, usually kept in a ponytail, fell just short of the middle of her back. When she walked, it swung to and fro exposing the soft-colored skin of her neck. Her eyes were a mesmerizing combination of green and grey. And though she loved to wear jeans and a dress shirt, her curves were displayed better than those of who wore short skirts and tank tops.

"'Sup, Freddemption?" Sam's greeting broke through his thoughts. "Did your brain slack off as usual or is your locker door just that interesting?"

Freddie turned around, adjusting his backpack strap. "Funny. How long were you waiting to say that one?"

She shrugged. "Oh, about a week. I knew it was inevitable that you'd be staring off into space like a zombie one of these days. Anyways, you excited? First year without Briggs!"

She punched his locker for emphasis, the loud bang drowned out by the clamor in the student filled hallway. As he checked for a dent, Freddie wondered why he didn't just pad his possessions. Sam remained unchanged ever since he met her. She was still short, blonde, loud, and violent. Though she had gotten better at fixing his things after she broke them. She used duct tape instead of scotch tape.

"Yeah, I know," he replied, "I still can't believe it. And to get Ms. Fairfield instead? That's just plain awesome."

Sam smirked at his mention of the pretty teacher. She casually leaned against the locker next to his. "Sooo...what do you think of the fair Ms. Fairfield? Do you think she's hot?

Freddie looked incredulous, as if it were blasphemy to question such a thing. "Hell yeah she's hot!"

Sam glanced evilly over his shoulder.

"Who's hot?" asked an accusatory voice.

Freddie froze in panic. He rapidly searched his brain for an escape route.

"Hey, Wendy-girl," Sam called out, "we're just talking about—"

"You!" He spun around to see his girlfriend holding a stack of books, her eye narrowed with suspicion. "We're just talking about you. No one else. No one. Especially not Ms. Fairfield."

Freddie laughed nervously and elbowed Sam in the stomach. "Right, Sam? Tell her. Go on."

Obviously, Sam had never taken orders from Freddie and she wasn't about to start now.

"Oh no, we were definitely talking about Ms. Fairfield. Freddie here was just concluding that she looks smokin' hot."

"Wha-what? She's lying," he stammered out, "W-we weren't talking about—"

"Ms. Fairfield? She is _so_ hot."

Freddie didn't understand so he decided silence was the best option. Wendy laughed at his confusion, brushing a lock of red hair out of her eyes.

"Calm down, Freddie, I know you like me best," she moved forward and pinched his cheek with her free hand, then gave him a peck on the lips, "And Ms. Fairfield is hot enough that all the girls think so, too. And all the gay guys."

Sam snorted. "Tell me about it. Did you see—hey!" She looked around the crowded hallway. "Wasn't Carly supposed to be with you?"

Wendy shook her head. "No, she had to do a student government thing. I'll meet her at AP English."

Wendy and Carly were taking AP English because they want to become a journalist and a lawyer respectively. Freddie, an engineering major, could care less about English, while Sam, an I-don't-Know major, could care less about school so they were taking the regular English course.

The warning bell rang, signaling the end of the passing period. The hall instantly began to clear up as students drained into their classes.

"Well, see you after school, Freddums," Wendy said. She kissed him again, gave Sam their complicated handshake, and set off for Room 415.

Sam stared as Wendy vanished into the flow of teens. "For someone like you, you sure have an awesome girlfriend," she remarked.

He rolled his eyes, accustomed to her backhanded compliments. "C'mon, I heard she hands out lollipops on the first day."

He grabbed her arm and tugged her towards Room 150.

When they arrived, their classmates were settling in. The teacher wasn't there yet. They spotted Gibby waving cheerily at them from the back row.

"Over here, guys!" He yelled, even though the room was relatively quiet.

Sam and Freddie took their seats next to Gibby with Freddie in the middle and Sam on his right.

"Hey, Gib," said Freddie, "how was your first day?"

"It's been all right," Gibby replied, "Tasha and I have the same classes, so that's good."

Freddie punched him softly on the shoulder. "You lucky bum. Wendy and I only have first period chemistry. We don't see each other for the rest of the day."

"Now if only I were as fortunate," Sam quipped absently, concentrating on her doodle. Giving her an annoyed glance, Freddie leaned over and slid a piece of paper in between her pencil and the desk. He turned back to Gibby.

"Sam and I have four classes together. Carly and I have two," he informed, "It's too bad we don't share any classes."

"Yeah, that sucks," agreed Gibby.

"We can hang out after school if you want," Freddie suggested, "We might do some brain storming for the show."

Gibby shook his head. "I can't. I'm going to Tasha's for dinner. I need to primp to look my best. Can I come over tomorrow?"

"Sure. Whatever curdles your cheese. I just wanted to make sure we all don't drift apart. You know, preparing for our futures and all."

"I don't want that to happen either," Gibby said, clapping Freddie on the back.

Their conversation was ended by the open of the door. The entire class held its breath as Ms. Fairfield floated gracefully into the room.

Followed by a scowling Mrs. Briggs.

The atmosphere deflated as the students watched both teachers stop in front of the black board. Everything was silent before Sam shouted out what everyone was thinking.

"WHAT ARE _YOU_ DOING HERE?" She was out of her seat and into the aisle, her finger pointing menacingly at the older teacher.

"Mrs. Briggs," Ms. Fairfield started pleasantly, "is going to be your teacher for a couple of weeks. I'm going east with my fiancée to visit his family, so Principal Franklin recommended her as a substitute in order for the school to save money. When I get back, I'm sure we'll all get to know each other very well. But in the mean time, you can get the comfort and familiarity of your old teacher."

She walked to her desk and retrieved a bag of lollipops from the bottom drawer. She handed the bag to a still scowling Mrs. Briggs.

"Here, Francine. Hand one out to every student. I always give them lollipops on the first day."

With that, Ms. Fairfield smiled at the class, said good bye, and left, trapping them in a 25 by 30 box with the demon teacher.

Mrs. Briggs swept the class with a hard glare until her eyes landed on the still standing form of Sam.

In an icy voice, she commanded, "Sit down, Puckett."

"No. I'll never listen to you. I hate you."

Sam had reason to dislike Mrs. Briggs. It was just last year that the blonde delinquent nearly broke the detention record set by "Slim" Jimmy Johnson 15 years prior. She came within 3 detentions of the 97 Jimmy received during his Junior year. But Briggs knew Sam would only revel in the glory of beating the hallowed record. So instead of handing her a detention for plastic wrapping every doorway in school, Briggs gave Sam a suspension. Sam's last week of school was spent at home and her chance at smashing the record disappeared before her eyes.

"Likewise Miss Puckett. But I am not fooling around with you anymore. Anything you do that is against the rules will be grounds for an expulsion. One such rule is disobeying a faculty member's direct order. Now will you sit down or shall I go to the office for you paperwork?"

"You're bluffing," Sam retorted, "You can't do that."

Mrs. Briggs smiled cruelly. "It's up to you."

Freddie looked worriedly up at Sam.

"I think she's serious," he whispered. He earned himself a glare, but nevertheless, after another several seconds of tense staring, Sam quietly sat down.

"Thank you. Now," Mrs. Briggs held up the lollipops, "according to Ms. Fairfield, each of you is to get one lollipop."

A few kids nodded eagerly.

She ripped open the top of the bag and held it out. "Come and get it."

Nothing in the universe would have prompted Freddie to go up to Mrs. Briggs and grab a lollipop. His gut told him something bad was going to happen. It didn't feel right. Sam, however, thought differently. She made to jump up, but Freddie grabbed her shoulder and yanked her down forcefully.

Out of the corner of his mouth, he mumbled, "Wait. Don't go yet. Something isn't right."

She nodded, realizing that indeed Briggs being nice was a strange thing. Sam was brave but she wasn't stupid.

The class stayed motionless. The teens were too afraid to move. Then something happened. Jonathan DeCarlo slowly stood and walked up. Mrs. Briggs' grin grew wider. He carefully reached in without losing eye contact and extracted a cherry-red lollipop.

"Go on," urged Mrs. Briggs, "Eat it."

He unwrapped the lollipop and hesitated for a second. In his periphery, Freddie saw Sam suddenly tense up. He slightly turned his head. She stared wide-eyed back at him.

She mouthed, _"Sucker_."

Jonathan stuck the lollipop in his mouth. And Mrs. Briggs whipped out a yellow slip of paper.

"Detention. Eating in class."

* * *

An hour and twenty minutes later, they were in the parking lot. Freddie sat against his car, hyperventilating. He was barely able to breathe the whole period. The air had been so thick and oppressive that he had choked on it.

Gibby projected his views on the matter. "Man, that was intense."

Sam lay on the hood, resting on her elbows. "You guys are wimps. It wasn't that bad."

"You should be thanking me instead of insulting me," Freddie pointed out, "If I hadn't stopped you, you would have been expelled. Would a lollipop be worth an expulsion?"

A moment passed before she answered. "If it was green apple."

Carly and Wendy appeared next to the car.

"Long time no see," Carly greeted. She spoke the truth. Freddie rarely saw Carly during the day anymore. Her ambition drove her to join every club known to man. She took advanced classes. She tutored. She did everything. And it paid off. Carly had already gotten the interest of multiple top colleges and universities across the nation. But she always tried to make time for iCarly and her friends. Sometimes she succeeded, sometimes she didn't.

"Hey, Carls, Wendy-girl," said Sam.

Wendy took in the scene. "What's up with the guys? They look like they've seen a ghost."

Freddie chuckled shakily. "It was worse."

"Worse than a ghost? I don't know...ghosts are pretty freaky," she turned to Carly, "aren't they freaky?"

Carly nodded, smiling. "They are definitely freaky."

"It was Briggs," Gibby stated flatly, "she's teaching our class for two weeks. It's a disaster."

"Aw come on. She's not that...bad." Carly's sentence teetered off. Mrs. Briggs was bad.

"Really? I don't believe that and neither do you," Freddie said, "She totally annihilated a kid in class today. Sam was lucky I saved her. She could've been expelled."

Carly looked alarmed. "Sam," she chastised, "stop doing bad things!"

"I didn't do anything! Briggs has it out for me. She said anything I do wrong, no matter how small the violation, can get me expelled. So unfair."

"Whatever the case, this is the year you stop breaking the rules," Carly said sternly.

Wendy checked her boyfriends watch. "Enough about this stuff. Let's get out of here."

"I'm with Wendy-girl," said Sam as she hopped off the hood.

Freddie stood and brushed the dirt off his pants. "Need a ride Gibby?"

Gibby gestured towards the bike rack at the front of the school. "Naw, I'll just ride my bike."

"Good for you, Gibby" Sam called out from the backseat window, "Freddie, get your lazy butt in here. I don't wanna be at school any longer than I have to."

Freddie didn't want to ask how she was already in his car when he hadn't unlocked the doors yet. It was better these things stayed untouched. He gave Gibby a salute and jumped into the driver's seat. Wendy was next to him while Carly was next to Sam.

Sam snapped her fingers by his ear. "Bushwell Plaza, Jeeves. Make it quick."

* * *

Carly's apartment was filled with piles of burlap sacks for no apparent reason (Spencer). The TV was on, but Spencer was asleep on the couch, his snoring filling the room. Sam immediately headed to the kitchen. Wendy and Freddie sat at the island and watched the show that was Carly waking up Spencer.

"Spencer," she slapped him lightly on the cheek, "Wake up, Spencer."

Her brother squirmed and groaned, kicking out with his feet.

"I don't wanna."

Carly took hold of one of his legs and pulled. "Wake up! It's daytime!"

Spencer clung to the couch frame. She grunted and strained, but there was no way Carly was strong enough to pull both Spencer and the couch so she let go. He sighed happily.

Carly growled. "WAKE UP!"

She jumped into the air and body slammed him. Her slim frame did nothing. She fell to the ground with a thump.

"That's it. SAM! GET OVER HERE!"

Spencer shot up and grabbed his sister by the shoulders, cowering behind her.

"No! Sam, don't get over here! I'm up already."

Sam was digging into a bowl of vanilla pudding and didn't seem to hear either of her friends.

Spencer breathed out in relief. "So," he began as though nothing happened, "how was school today?"

Freddie spun around in his chair and hit his head repeatedly on the counter. Wendy stroked his back comfortingly.

"What's the matter with Freddo?"

Wendy answered, "His English teacher Ms. Fairfield went on a trip with her fiancée so Mrs. Briggs is teaching for two weeks."

Spencer knew enough from history that Briggs was the archenemy of the kids at school.

"Wow, that sucks," he paused in thought, "wait—Ms. Fairfield? That's funny. My friend Socko just went to Pennsylvania with _his _fiancee."

"What's her name?" Freddie asked warily.

"Madison. Madison Fairfield."

A loud crash emanated from the kitchen. Sam was standing and her bowl of pudding was on the ground.

"Tell him to break up with her. Now."

"What? I can't just tell him to do that. Why would he?"

She stomped into the living room and came to a halt in the midst of their group.

"Tell him...she jumps all the boys at school in the janitor's closet."

Freddie sighed from behind her. "That won't work, Sam. Ms. Fairfield is the faculty advisor for the Abstinence Club."

"Tell him she drinks."

"Advisor for the Temperance Club."

"You're not helping, Freddie. I hate that woman. Because of her, I lost out on a record. And I can't beat it now or I'll be expelled. You might be afraid of her, but I just plain despise her."

"Look, we dealt with Briggs before; we'll deal with her again. Just keep your head down and these two weeks will fly by."

"See?" Carly said, "Freddie has the idea."

"Fine," Sam grumbled, "But if I ever meet Socko, he better watch himself."

* * *

**The start to a multi-chapter extravaganza. I haven't been using iCarly's fantastic list of characters all that well. Mainly, it's just been Freddie (My Mistake) and Sam (One-shots). So this is a way to acknowledge the material that the iCarly universe has provided for fanfiction writers. I'm going to be changing the "main characters" based on whose perspective it is in the chapter.**

**So tell me what you thought. And please report any mistakes.**

**Thanks.**

**PS: I will not include Adam because frankly, the girls of iCarly have a much better selection to choose from.**


	2. Chilling Like Villains

**...and the reappearance of a once important character.**

* * *

After another exhausting day at school, Carly and her friends, Gibby included this time, were looking forward to a nice, quiet ride back to Bushwell where there would be iced tea and fat cakes. Nothing was more relaxing than kicking back and hanging out with a group of friends to eat, talk, laugh, and maybe get a little studying done. Of course, this plan all hinged on the fact that getting to Carly's apartment would require minimal work. The conversion van that Spencer had bought over the summer was the key. A hulking vehicle with 10 seats, it was 12 years old, it was bright green, it was loud, obnoxious, unsafe...and it wasn't in the Ridgeway parking lot.

"Goddammit, Spencer," Carly muttered under her breath. Cursing her brother aloud was bad manners no matter how appropriate it was at the time. She turned to her friends with a frown on her face.

"Who brought their car?"

Freddie replied for the group, "We all thought Spencer was going to drive us. My mom drove Wendy and I, Sam took the bus, and Gibby came with Tasha."

"We're going to have to walk, aren't we," Sam asked flatly.

When she nodded, Sam groaned.

"Somehow I knew this was going to happen." Sam looked disheartened for a moment before brightening suddenly. "Eh, I might as well enjoy this."

Sam jumped on Freddie's back. "Giddy up!"

"Hey!" Freddie attempted to shake her off to no avail. When Sam hung on, it was impossible to force her to let go. Freddie looked to the rest of them for help, but they all whistled casually and walked away. From behind her, Carly heard Freddie call out.

"Wait! You can't leave me with –with this!"

She laughed and began to run. Wendy and Gibby followed suit. One trek through Seattle later, the group came around the corner of the hallway on the 8th floor. The first thing Carly saw was a smirking Sam leaning against her door. Then she spotted Freddie lying on the ground, his chest heaving.

"Ha! Victory is mine! And to a lesser extent...Freddie's," Sam said triumphantly, gesturing to the prone form of the tech producer.

Freddie was helped up by Wendy, who patted him gently on the back. "Lesser extent? I carried you all the way!"

"Let's not fight about stupid things, guys," Carly said, inserting the key as her friends' argument deteriorated into making faces. The door opened about 4 inches before it met an obstruction with a loud bang. The chain lock was on.

Carly sighed exasperatedly. She put her head to the opening and looked around.

Nothing weird. Then why was the door double locked?

"Spencer!" She called out. "SPENCER! Open the door! YOU are in BIG trouble, mister!"

She began hammering on the door.

"SPENCER!" Bang, bang bang! "SPENCER! GET OUT HERE!" Bang, bang, bang! "I'm going to count to 3 and if you don't open this door, I'll ask Sam to open it!"

There was no reply.

"ONE! ...THREE! Sam, do the honors."

Sam rolled up her sleeves with a grin while Freddie covered his eyes.

"What are you doing, Freddie?" Wendy giggled.

Freddie put his other hand over her eyes. "Trust me. It's better if you don't see it."

Sam backed up to the other side of the hall. But before she could get a running start, they heard the sound of footsteps.

"Maybe you should just live with us," Carly muttered to Sam, "I can never get him to do anything."

Spencer's face appeared at the crack, looking fearful.

"Stop! Okay, I'm here. What do you want?"

Carly resembled a fish, her mouth opening and closing as she eventually stuttered out, "What—I—we want to get IN!"

Spencer looked over his shoulder.

"Sorry, but I'm a little busy right now. Can you come back later?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Spencer. What are you doing in there?"

He chuckled nervously and smoothed his hair down. "Nothing. Nothing at all. Certainly nothing suspicious and obviously nothing that you should be concerned with."

And with that, he slammed the door. It was followed by the scraping sound that often accompanied heavy objects being pushed across the floor, namely, furniture that was to be stacked against the door.

"Well, he's gone and sealed it off," Carly looked exasperatedly around at her friends, "_Now_ what do you guys want to do?"

"We could hang at my place," Freddie suggested.

Sam held a hand up haltingly. "Is your mom home?"

"Yes."

She turned to Carly. "We could go to the Groovy Smoothie. I've been dying for a Blitz."

Freddie rolled his eyes, but didn't complain. Carly nodded in agreement, also happy for an alternative. She liked Mrs. Benson enough, but sometimes the overprotective mom could get a little grating on the nerves.

"Let's go."

When the group entered, Carly immediately noticed the lack of customers. Usually, most of the tables in the Groovy Smoothie were packed with people enjoying blended fruits and various snacks. Today, it was either half full or half empty depending on your point of view.

"Hey, hey, iCarly and company!"

T-Bo saluted them with his stick on which hot dogs were impaled. Freddie and Gibby winced.

"Am I glad to see you," he continued. "My sales have been cut in half since the school year started the other day. The kids probably stay home to do homework instead of hanging out here and drinking nutritious smoothies. I was getting worried. But I told myself, '_T-Bo, your truly loyal customers will come through for you._' And look at this...the iCarlies came through for me. I knew you guys were my favorites for a reason. You really make me—"

"Can we order now?" Sam interjected.

"Damn right, you can! Take a seat. No standing for my best customers." He ushered the teens to a triangular table where they indeed did take seats; Freddie and Wendy, Carly and Sam, and Gibby.

"So what do you want? Oh, I have a new one called Banana Splitz. A Blueberry Blitz mixed with a Strawberry Splash and a couple bananas thrown in."

Carly smiled at the man. "That sounds good. I'll have a medium. What about you guys?"

"Make that two."

"Three."

"Four."

"And an extra large. And a double cheese burger."

"Sam," Carly reprimanded, "didn't you eat 4 slices of pizza during lunch?"

"No."

Carly gave her a pointed look.

"Fine. Yes," Sam whined, "but I'm still sooo hungry."

"Ugh. And a double cheeseburger for the child. I swear, sometimes you are completely ridiculous."

Sam pulled her face into a look of mock hurt. "Sometimes? I'm insulted. I was under the impression I was ridiculous _all_ the time."

"Me too," Freddie joined in. His remark earned him a kick under the table. "Ow! Hey! You were the one who said it!"

Sam glared. "Yeah. Me. I said it. Not you. Let's keep it that way."

"You can't silence my opinion! Especially not when it's the same as yours. Right, Wendy? Right?" Freddie nudged his girlfriend repeatedly, prompting her for an answer. Wendy looked torn between disagreeing with her boyfriend and disagreeing with Sam (which is always an intimidating factor).

She whispered to Carly, "What should I do?"

Carly merely shrugged, having been subject to the situation too many times to want to participate. She watched as Wendy waged an internal war before resuming the conversation with a nervous smile.

"Um...I think Sam's right. She should be the only one able to say bad things about herself."

Sam gave a triumphant laugh while Freddie huffed about unsupportive girlfriends. Carly was prepared to offer some words of condolence, but Wendy had the situation under control. She grabbed Freddie's hair and gave him a deep kiss. Carly covered her eyes as it looked like there was tongue action going on and she didn't want to intrude.

Sam, on the other hand, intruded, "You dirty kids, get a room!"

"Sam!" She slapped Sam's arm lightly. "Don't be rude!

"I'm not," Sam protested, "I was just pointing out that—"

"Smoothies and a burger," T-Bo called out cheerfully. He set the multiple cups down and placed a delicious smelling double cheeseburger. "Here you go. Have a groovy day!"

Carly stared as T-Bo moved through the store giving fist bumps and hugs to random customers.

"Um, guys, is it just me or is T-Bo acting weirder than he usually does? I mean, he didn't even try to sell us his stick-dogs. Guys?"

When there was no answer, she turned around. Freddie and Wendy had resumed kissing while Sam was pretending to vomit into her smoothie. Gibby, whom Carly had forgotten was here, was blankly sipping his drink.

"Hey, Gibby. Want to join the conversation? You haven't said anything yet."

Gibby glanced up. "What? Oh, I was just zoned out. It happens from time to time. What were you talking about?"

"I...don't remember," Carly said. "What were we talking about, Sam?"

Sam paused her pantomiming. "We were discussing Freddie and Wendy's inappropriate actions." She suddenly grabbed her Banana Splitz and took a big gulp. "Hey! This is good!"

"Oh yeah. We were talking about Freddie and Wendy making out in front of us."

Gibby nodded sagely. "Ah. That's always an interesting topic." He sipped a little more smoothie.

"So? Any thoughts?" Carly was desperate to facilitate conversation with Gibby. She wanted to make him feel more involved in their group ever since they announced he would be starring on iCarly instead of appearing as just a recurring character.

"Thoughts. I dunno," Gibby thought seriously for a couple moments, "hm...oh! I got one. Did you ever realize that Freddie's kissed all of you? _And_ Sam's sister?"

Sam began to choke heavily on the half of her burger that was in her mouth. Wendy disconnected herself from Freddie, who slapped himself in the face.

"What?"

Carly grimaced as she slapped Sam on the back until she spit up the food on a napkin.

"Lemme at 'im!"

Sam jumped up, snarling and reaching for Gibby it her deadly hands. Carly managed to snag the back of Sam's shirt just before Gibby could be pounded into mush.

"Gibby! Why?"

Gibby seemed genuinely confused. "What? You told me to say something. So I said something."

"I didn't mean to spout uncomfortable truths! Sam, sit DOWN."

Carly held on to Sam's shoulders, somehow having the strength to force her back into her seat. When the angry blonde finally assured her that she wouldn't kill Gibby, Carly whispered, "Look. We're trying to keep their kiss on the DL. I'm pretty sure Freddie told you right? Yeah, that's what I thought. No one else is allowed to find out about it so keep your mouth shut. And Freddie's relationship with me? That was the past and we're trying to keep it there. Is that clear?"

Gibby nodded conspiratorially then glanced around as if there were people listening in right at that moment.

"Good."

Needless to say, the atmosphere at the table was less than friendly at that point and Carly was wondering why they couldn't have at least one nice afternoon. Ten minutes later, Wendy said she had to go home and she left without a goodbye. Gibby grew increasingly scared of Sam, who was glaring intensely, so he too left. Sam finished off all her food, hugged Carly, and grumpily dropped a couple dollars on the table before running out the door.

"At least she tried to pay," Carly chuckled, then paused seeing a line at the cash register, "Sooo...you want to be a gentleman? I have a lot of homework to do."

Freddie rolled his eyes and headed to the register. Carly smiled at the back of his head. She stood and walked out into the cold air. She checked her phone. It was already 5 o'clock! She tucked her phone back into her jeans pocket and set off at a brisk pace. There was Math, History, and English in her backpack and all of it had to be done. A's don't make themselves!

In a couple minutes, Carly entered the Bushwell lobby, ignoring whatever gross thing Lewbert was doing with his foot. Luckily, the elevator doors open instantly. She stepped in, pressed the number 8, and was about to hit "close door" when a familiar shout caught her attention.

"Wait! Hold the door!"

Carly shot her hand out to block the doors and looked up to see Griffen enter the elevator, dragging a hand truck behind him.

"Thanks," he said, pressing the 4 as the doors closed. They tried to touch each other as little as possible which was difficult considering they were stuck in a small box with a hand truck.

Carly surreptitiously glanced him over. He seemed to be the same Griffen that she had known. The same hair, the same body, the same style in clothes. The only difference it seemed was that he looked haggard. There were shadows beneath his eyes and he leaned against the elevator wall tiredly.

"So how've you been?"

Carly squeaked in surprise and she thought she saw a faint smirk on his lips.

"Okay," she answered, shakily.

"Good, good."

They stood in silence. How long should an elevator take to go up 4 floors? She looked up at the numbers doubting if the elevator was moving at all. Maybe the box they were currently in had somehow detached itself from reality and had taken a different route through time, one in which elevator trips with ex-boyfriends lasted an eternity.

Ugh.

She needed to stop watching Freddie's sci-fi movies.

"So," she start in an effort to quell the awkwardness, "um, what were you doing with the hand truck?"

"Oh, just bringing down the last of my Pee-Wee babies," he turned his head, gazing at her with his dark eyes. "I'm moving. I've been packing this whole week."

"Oh."

She felt a twinge guilt. She regretted the way their relationship ended. Looking back, it had been pretty immature of her to hurt him like that. She had always lectured Sam about judging people and there she was, making fun of a good, well...bad, guy just for having a hobby that he liked.

"Yeah."

The elevator dinged and Carly let out the breath she hadn't known she was holding. The hand truck rattled as Griffen maneuvered it over the slight gap between the elevator and the floor.

"Bye, Carly."

The doors started to close. Her heart beat faster.

"Wait!"

Carly stuck her hand though the doors once again. Griffen spun around in surprise.

"Wait. I-I'm sorry."

He raised an eyebrow questioningly. She held down the "open door" button.

"I shouldn't have judged you because you collect Pee-Wee babies. I shouldn't have made fun of you. I'm sorry."

Griffen slowly smiled.

"Thanks, Carly."

He started to turn again, but Carly pulled him back.

"And I-I'd like a second chance," she said, staring at her shoes. She hurriedly rummaged through her backpack for a pen. When she found it, she grabbed his arm and wrote her number in case he had deleted it from his phone. "If you think I deserve one, call me any time. But if this goodbye is for good, then...goodbye."

Carly released the "open door" button and watched as Griffen disappeared behind a wall of metal.

The door was completely unlocked this time though maybe it was because there was a conspicuous lack of Spencer or anything else weird and unusual. Even the burlap sacks from the other day were gone. Before she could further immerse herself in the whereabouts of her brother, Carly remembered the homework that had to be done and set to work.

* * *

**iCabal: arrossisce, aussiemma, axel100, BaalRules, BoxOfTrinkets, boxofpiglets, Commander Lagasse, Coyote Laughs, ItalianBabexo8, iCabal, iCarlyangst, iLuvNathanKrEsS, **

** KingxLeon21, Myjumpingsocks, ober22, pairababes, Pieequals36, pigwiz, Tech-Man, The Earl of Sandwich, xXACCEBXx**

**Please review.**


	3. A Strange Afternoon

... **AKA: Why do these people keep following me?**

* * *

Heavy breathing filled her ears as panic coursed through her veins. She had to find him. She _had_ to. There was no other choice. If she didn't, well, the consequences were unimaginable.

She never lost. _Never._

Sam's eyes roved back and forth across the two pages while Gibby's and Freddie's did the same on either side of her. After a few more seconds of frantic searching, she triumphantly jabbed her finger down in the middle of the spread.

"There he is!"

"Three times in a row?" Freddie whispered angrily, "You have to be cheating!"

"I dunno, Freddie," Gibby said from her right, "You can't really cheat on this. And besides, she did say she borrowed it this morning."

"Gibby's got it right," Sam grinned smugly, "You guys just suck at—"

"Puckett!"

Sam glanced up innocently. Freddie and Gibby quickly held up their own books, hiding their faces from Mrs. Briggs. The teacher glared from the desk at the front.

"Yes, Mrs. Briggs?"

"_Where's Wally?_ is not suitable reading material for an 11th grade English class. Put it away. And stop it with that innocent look. It makes me want to vomit."

Sam gave a prolonged groan.

"_Now_, Puckett."

She figured getting expelled over a book wasn't worth it so she stowed _Where's Wally?_ in her backpack and sat twiddling her thumbs. The clock told her it was going to be 1 minute and 27 seconds until freedom. Converting into class time, that was roughly equivalent to 2 hours. She resisted the urge to stand up and shout obscenities. Briggs was seriously driving her insane. What was the point of forcing the students to read for the last 10 minutes of class? If a teacher is done teaching, class should be over and the students should be released. To keep them in was a significant infraction of personal rights. It was unfair; nay, it was injustice!

Sam glanced at the clock again. 20 seconds had passed. She slammed her head on the desk.

"Head up, Puckett!"

That's it. Expulsion or no expulsion, nobody talks to Sam Puckett that way. She prepared to jump from her seat, but before she could do so the school secretary burst into the room.

"Francine! Your car's on fire!"

"What?" Briggs shot out of her chair and, as she went through the doorway, shouted, "Class dismissed!"

A cheer went up, the students busying themselves with packing their books, glad to have finished another day of school. Sam silently thanked the mechanic that had miswired Briggs' car at the opportune moment. She shoved her papers haphazardly into her backpack and stood up.

"Let's make like dice and roll, nubs."

She began to walk towards the door. When they didn't follow her, she looked back. Freddie was hastily scribbling down the homework that was written on the blackboard while Gibby tried to copy down Freddie's frantic handwriting.

Honestly.

Sometimes she found it hard to understand why she hung out with them. Then again she had always been a magnet for the bizarre and peculiar. The incident with the passive-aggressive zebra and the package of instant noodles spoke volumes.

"Sam? What are you doing?"

Freddie's voice jarred her out of her memories.

"I was waiting for you two idiots to stop being nubs and to hurry up and get out of here," she shuddered, "I think I'm breaking out in hives."

This time, they followed her out into the hallway where students were still bustling around. Phase 1: Complete, Sam thought. If only she could just make it to the front doors without interruption, then maybe she could get home and have a nice relaxing night of listening to music and watching TV. However, things always seemed to get in her way. This time, it was Reuben who proved the obstacle as she, Freddie, and Gibby rounded the next corner.

Sam didn't notice him immediately, but she did notice when he spouted his trademark crap.

"Chug the otter, Mrs. Potter!"

She sighed and wondered if the vein in her forehead was showing yet.

"Reuben, I thought I told you to—"

To say Reuben had changed would have been a bit of meiosis. He was, as the French say, _le hunk_. He wasn't like the dunderheads who hung out in the weight room during lunch. Reuben's t-shirt showed only a hint of muscles, but it was enough to jog the imagination. His hair was a shiny golden brown and fell sideways across his eyes. And it wouldn't hurt to say he was now as tall as Freddie, who in fact was even taller this year.

Sam opened and closed her mouth several times. A hand waved in front of her eyes and she heard Freddie say, "Sam? Sam? Hello?"

"What's the matter? Did her chair dive in the batter?" Reuben asked, leaning in to peer at her worriedly.

The angels and trumpets disappeared out from over Reuben's head. Sam frowned. Figures. He finally starts looking good and he's still a complete idiot.

"Get outta my face, loonybin," she snapped.

Reuben smiled and straightened up. "Ah, there's the manta ray, the sun has come out and play."

"He's rhyming," Sam muttered to Gibby, "Why's he rhyming?"

He shrugged as if to say "hell if I know".

Reuben sidled up to Sam and draped an unfortunate arm over her shoulder. Adopting what she called a shit-eating-grin, he whispered in her ear, "How about a fish for the—"

That's as far as he got. Sam locked an arm around his neck and squeezed. Reuben's eyes bulged out of his head as he gasped for breath.

"Sam!" Freddie scolded, glancing around the hallway, "You're gonna get in trouble! Remember? Expulsion?"

Sam nodded. He was right. The hallways were emptying and they were in plain sight. She needed to make this quick.

"Okay, you're gonna listen to me and you're gonna listen good," she hissed through gritted teeth, "Consider this a warning. Next time you think you can proposition _me,_ you'll be singing soprano. 'Cuz I have a nutcracker at home and I'd hate for Christmas to come early this year. Capiche?"

Reuben's head wobbled up and down which Sam took for a yes. She released him. The trio watched as he took one last fearful look at Sam and dashed down the hall.

"I think that's the last we'll see of the yellow bellied varmint," she announced in a satisfied sort of way.

She could almost hear Freddie roll his eyes. "Good job, Yosemite Sam."

Her ears perked up at the new nickname. She rolled it around on her tongue. "Yosemite Sam, yeah...Yo_sem_ite _Sam_. I like it! Thanks, Fredinator."

They finally arrived at Carly's locker where, as expected, Carly and Wendy were waiting.

"There you are!"Carly exclaimed, "What took you?"

"A minor skirmish," Sam said as she twisted the dial. 19-1-13.

"Minor skirmish? Sam, what did I tell you about getting into fights?"

She snorted, turning around. "Fight? It wasn't even a fight. It was me winning."

Carly sighed.

"It was Reuben," Freddie said from over Wendy's shoulder.

"Reuben? The weird talking kid? I thought he was through with you."

"Apparently not. Had to teach him a lesson." Sam shoved all her textbooks into the locker and was about to slam it closed when Carly's hand grabbed the door.

"You don't have any homework?" Carly asked suspiciously.

Sam gave her the same innocent look she gave to Briggs. "Nope."

Carly narrowed her eyes.

"Really."

Sam nodded. "No chizz."

"But what about the English assignment?" Gibby interjected helpfully. A second later, he wilted under Sam's glare. He glanced at his non-existent watch. "Well, my mom and I are gonna go underwear shopping so I gotta go."

She snickered has he nearly tripped over himself dashing out the double doors.

Carly grimaced. "Underwear shopping with his mom?"

"That kid has so many problems," Sam said shaking her head mournfully.

"Agreed. Hey wait! Don't change the subject! Do homework, Sam."

Carly reached in and grabbed the English textbook, shoving it into Sam's arms. Sam staggered dramatically under the new weight.

"Ca-arly!" she whined, hopefully looking pathetic enough to garner pity, "It's too heavy for me to carry home."

However, Carly was having none of it. "Sam, you can carry Freddie around no problem, but you can't carry a book?"

"But Freddie's full of air anyways. He doesn't weigh anything."

"I heard that!" Freddie shouted.

"That's why I said it!" she called back.

Carly rolled her eyes. "C'mon, Sam. Just do it. This year is really important and I want you to do your best. Please? For me?"

Like many others, Sam couldn't resist Carly's ultimate line, so she gave up fighting it.

"Fine. But you owe me a pack of fat cakes."

"Sure thing," Carly said happily. Sam closed her locker and the duo left Freddie and Wendy in a whispering conversation.

"So how goes it?"

"Ugh, Spencer's been stranger than normal."

Sam was curious. For Spencer to be stranger than normal, he'd have to have to be superweird.

"In what ways?"

Carly shrugged. "I dunno. He's just been quiet when we're not talking and really loud when we are. He's up at bizarre times in the night. And sometimes, I hear this banging sound coming from his room."

"Hmm. That_ is_ strange."

Outside, Sam quickly hugged Carly and started towards the bus stop in case the bus driver had any rebellious ideas.

"You're not coming over?" asked Carly.

She replied, walking backwards. "No, it's Thursday."

"Oh, right. Good luck with your thing. I'll call you."

"You better. Oh, and call me Yosemite Sam."

Carly gave her an amused look.

Sam got a running start and managed to jump the three steps into the bus. She looked around for any empty seats and luckily there was one right near the front. She plopped into the seat, resting her cheek against the window. It was warm from the late summer sun. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the comfortable sensation.

"Achoo!"

Sam found out why the seat was empty. Without opening her eyes, she whispered, "Germy?"

"Yes?" he whispered back.

"I dare you to sneeze into the back of my head one more time."

Silence. Then a mad scramble and a sneeze from somewhere further back.

She smiled.

* * *

"Mom! I'm home!"

Her mom didn't answer. Sam remembered that her mom was taking classes at the community college as a way of getting on the straight and narrow. Personally, Sam thought her mom could've just gotten a simple, legitimate job, but evidently, when Pam did something, it had to be all the way. She was sort of proud of that fact. It showed mettle.

Sam went to her room, dropping her textbook on the counter as she passed by the kitchen. She slung her backpack against her bed and walked back out to the kitchen where she made herself a thick ham and Swiss sandwich. Using her textbook as a tray, she balanced the sandwich along with a bag of Ray's potato chips, a Peppy cola, a pack of Fat Cakes, and a Chuckles bar as she returned to her room. She set the meal on her bedside table and flopped into bed. She flipped on the TV to _Girly _Cowand leaned upright on her stack of pillows.

She took a big bite of sandwich, a handful of chips, and a sip of soda.

Ahh. Just living the life.

Her phone buzzed, signaling a text message.

* * *

To: Sam

From: Carly

DO UR HW! DON'T LEAVE IT TIL 12

* * *

Sam was really hoping that wouldn't happen.

Carly knew her too well. That's exactly what she was planning to do. But apparently, Carly didn't agree that midnight was the best time to analyze the finer points of American literature. Sam was about to dismiss the order, but she glanced guiltily at the English book piled with food.

Stupid conscience.

She moved all the food off the textbook and picked it up. She then realized that she didn't know the assignment. One quick text to Freddie later, she was on page 24.

Read the Declaration of Independence and answer the questions on page 27.

A compromise was in order. For every two minutes of TV she watched, she read another sentence from the Declaration. Slowly but surely, Sam worked her way through the assignment. Then it was on to the questions.

She took one look at the list of 20 and shut the book. Forget that chiz. _Girly Cow _was a cruel mistress who should not be ignored.

A couple hours later, the Sam heard the front door slam open.

"SAM! I'M HOME!"

She flipped open her phone to check the time. 5:58. Just in time. She jumped off the bed and ran into the cramped living room. Her mom was already sprawled out on the couch.

"Hey, kid. Hurry up."

Sam sat next to her mom and together they waited as the clock ticked closer and closer to 6 o'clock. The second hand finally reached the 12 and the faced each other.

Simultaneously, they concentrated, grimaced, and squeezed out, "I love you."

Sam collapsed sideways across the couch while her mom's head fell backwards. They gasped and wheezed with the effort. Their eyes connected. Her mom began to laugh and she joined in.

"We're so lame!" Her mom said in between laughs.

"Damn right we are."

It wasn't that they didn't mean it. It just wasn't their thing. It was sort of...understood. Sam knew her mom, although sometimes negligent and abrasive, cared about her. And Pam knew her daughter, although snappish and rude, returned the feelings. But the therapist didn't seem to trust them so he set up Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Sundays at 6 o'clock as a bonding time when they were supposed to say their "I love you's".

After she caught her breath, Sam stood and held out a hand.

Pam groaned. "I'm sooo comfortable."

"C'mon, mom."

Sam grabbed her mom's hand and pulled her upright. They went into the kitchen where Pam opened the fridge and peered in.

"Damn, forgot to go shopping. I'm thinking mac & cheese?"

Sam made a face.

"With ham?"

Sam grinned. "You know me so well."

A Blue Box Mac & Cheese was quickly made and Sam diced up a thick slice of the ever present ham in their fridge. As they ate, they chatted about various subjects.

Sam found out her sister was coming home for Christmas this year which was always a good thing. She might have found her sister annoying but having Melanie home for Christmas made her feel like family again.

("Don't tell her I said that!")

As it turned out, her mom was late due to an economics course taught by "the lamest teacher alive."

("I mean, class was twenty minutes over and he kept on talking in that boring-ass voice!")

They took turns insulting Briggs.

("That old sack!")

And soon dinner was done. Sam won the rock, paper, scissors match so her mom was stuck doing the dishes. She returned to her darkened room just in time to turn on the light and hear a persistent buzzing.

She reclined on her bed.

"Hey, Carly Barley."

"Hey, Yosemite Sam. Did you do your homework?"

Sam remembered the incomplete assignment that lay on the bed next to her thigh.

"Define 'do'."

"Did you finish your homework?"

"Define 'homework'."

"The assignment that you probably had to text Freddie for because you forgot to write it down."

"Define—"

"Sam! Just do it!"

"Fine, fine. Why do you have to nag me, woman?"

"Well, because you're irresponsible and lazy."

She laughed and said jokingly, "If that wasn't true, I'd go over there right now to beat you up, Shay, just for saying it."

"Sure. Bring it. I'd punch you right in the gut."

"Oh please, the last thing you punched was your History essay. Three holes to put in your binder. I could take you even if I was blindfolded in a square wheeled wheelchair."

The phone rasped with static as Carly snickered.

"Square wheels, Sam? Really?"

"Yep. Square. Like Freddie. Anyways, how's it been with Spencer? Has he exhibited any symptoms?"

"Yeah, he's been on the phone since I got home. I asked him who it was and he threw a handful of raisins at me and ran into his room."

She began tearing a sheet of paper into triangular pieces.

"Maybe he's a hitman. I once knew a hitman. Secret phone conversations, up in the middle of the night, sounds from his room. Those are the signs."

"Right," Carly said sarcastically, "Since when did you know a hitman?"

"I want over to my Uncle Carmine's house one day. Back when my mom spent a ton of time at the bar. He volunteered to help me with a science project. Well, it took too long so I slept over. I'm pretty sure one of the guys that was hangin' around there was a hitman. He did all those things you said."

"Sam, I don't think Spencer's an assassin."

Sam shrugged even Carly couldn't see. Now she was working on making squares. "Hey, don't listen to me. What do I know? I just have 5 relatives in jail and a gangster Uncle. Just don't blame me when you come home one day and Spencer's in Canada with a new name and a new face."

She was answered with a hiss of electricity.

"Carly. Carly?"

"..."

"You know I was kidding, right? Carly? Hel—"

"Sorry, Sam, I got distracted. What were you saying?"

"I was saying Spen—"

Sam was interrupted with a loud squeal.

"Sorry, Sam, I gotta go. Bye!"

Carly hung up. Sam stared at her phone.

"Well, that was weird." She looked down to see her bed covered with scraps of paper. "Damn it!"

* * *

**So all the characters are introduced. (Minor/situational characters come in later.) A thanks to KingxLeon21 for an inspiring review in which the idea of Killer!Spencer came into fruition. **

**iCabal=good stories.**

**Please review.**


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